


Technically a bromance

by TotemundTabu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 13:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: On the underground, Sam hears a pretty  boy discuss love matters on the phone.





	Technically a bromance

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tweet and this text:   
> 78.media.tumblr.com/d71c94e49906726e0dc7a3d19fc6adc3/tumblr_nrucpiaOOw1uuav8jo1_540.jpg  
> 78.media.tumblr.com/dd57dced14d6c7cfdaf8500fc5a3040f/tumblr_p6ex77nbff1vvf1xto1_540.jpg
> 
> Thank you for reading!!

**Technically a bromance**

 

* * *

 

 

“And you’ve had sex how many times?”

Sam tried to hide his face in the book he was reading, forcing himself to ignore the phone conversation going on.

The man next to him on the underground had been on the phone for the whole time, a grand total of thirty minutes, with someone he grasped called Robb – brother? friend? cousin? – who apparently had enough sentimental problems for eight human beings combined.

“How many, Robb?”

The poor man who had to listen to him started the phone call with the best intentions and energy but by then he was facepalming, pulling the skin of his face down and he had the most defeated tone in his voice.

“Hmm.”

Sam felt bad for overhearing, but he was sitting right next to him and the book he was reading, for how interesting, was not totally enough to quiet down his perpetual curiosity.

Plus, well.

He was pretty.

Sam perfectly knew with a man like that he wouldn’t have had much of a chance, but glancing and enjoying the view couldn’t harm anyone, right?

The man let out a crushed sigh, then he fixed himself on the chair, sitting straighter as if to witness the embarrassing debacle of his friend required him to keep up some kind of appearance.

His voice, though, was between vexed and resigned.

“Yeah, hm, that’s not... _technically_ a bromance.”

Sam found himself sucking his lips not to laugh.

That was funny.

He was funny.

And the situation was vaguely tragicomic.

The man glanced at him with the corners of his eyes. At first Sam felt utterly ashamed, a moment close to panic, but the guy didn’t look mad at all.

He had a tinsy, tiny smile.

Sam felt warmth staining his face up to the ears.

The man smiled and returned to the conversation seemingly energized.

“Robb, I’m quite sure you’re not exactly spoiling any friendship there. - he seemed amused, but his pitch was serious and blunt – Look, I get that Theon has more internalized homophobia than a Christian conservative youth with a policeman kink but like… after three months, I think it’s fair to assume that _no homo brojobs_ are not exactly what we’re talking about.”

Sam bit his bottom lip again, the corners of his mouth curling up involuntarily.

The man turned to look at his reaction and smiled back.

He had a pretty smile.

Then his eyes returned to staring in the void as he frowned at the last reply.

“He called you what.”

Sam tensed up.

The man’s voice cracked, “You called him  _what_ ?”

Sam frowned, confused, tilting his head to the side.

The man let out a sigh of utter horror, before shutting his eyes, clenching them, as if this way he could erase the information he just heard. “Yeah, now your dirtytalk is branded in my head, thanks. - he groaned – How can you two say shameless shit like that and then be embarrassed to admit you like each other is beyond me.”

Sam glanced back at his book, wondering if he was hearing too much.

Or, worse, getting a fake intimacy warming his heart over nothing.

“Robb, sorry, I’m like two stops from Whitechapel, so I have to hang up. Please, just come out to that disaster, you’re boyfriends already. - a smile – Yeah, you owe me big time. Bye.”

Sam was trying hard to focus on the book, but he kept rereading the same sentence over and over without feeling the meaning, words washed over him, echoed through a dark mind who just wanted to talk to that man. But he knew better. He knew how it would seem, a man – and not exactly a dashing prince charming, or so he thought of himself – trying to talk to strangers he found cute and funny …

At best ridiculous, at worst creepy.

But the man turned towards him with a shy smile, sighing deeply.

“He’s being ridiculous, I’m sorry.”

Sam let out a little chortle, “He’s afraid to ruin everything. Quite relatable, if you ask me.”

“I guess. I’m Jon, by the way.”

Then Jon ruffled around in his leather bag and took out a packet of gum, offering Sam one and putting one in his mouth. He seemed nervous, but not in a bad way, his hand fidgeted and moved nervously, he kept flicking his thumb against the other fingers’ bones.

“Are you trying to quit smoking?”, he asked, words almost slipping out of his mouth.

Jon blinked, surprised.

“How the fuck-”

“Ah, I was studying to become a nurse. - Sam chuckled – Gums are good, but maybe the nicotine patches would help you with it too.”

“Thank you. - Jon showed a kind smile, then frowned, curious – Then what do you do now, ex nurse?”

He looked nice.

He had sort of a resting annoyed face, and sometimes he pouted. He had a gloomy look, but maybe it was the waterfall of dark hair; beyond that he seemed… playful. Lonely, perhaps.

He was searching back for Sam with words.

For contact.

“I work at the idea store in Whitechapel. - Sam explained, quickly – Turns out I didn’t care much about medicine, as much as about books.”

At that, Jon laughed, but without malice.

“I can relate. - he rested his head against the window – I wanted to be a policeman, if you can believe it, but… yeah, that went somewhere else.”

“And what did you discover to be your books?”, Sam asked.

Jon looked in his eyes. He looked at his eyes. Pale eyes.

They shone so bright.

“I, hm, write. - a pause, shame in his voice, hidden behind a gloomy, dark, silk curtain – Fantasy, horror too, sometimes.”

Sam frowned, “Is this the part where you reveal to be my favourite author and my dream comes true?”, he joked.

Jon let out a small snort, “I haven’t… really published anything yet.”

“ _Yet_. - Sam pointed out – Just in case you should sign something so I can sell it.”

Okay, he was flirting a bit. Or trying to.

He had no idea how people flirt. He just like, let words roll out of his mouth and hoped they made sense.

One time he talked about bagels, didn’t work much.

Jon shook his head. He seemed amused.

He let out a little chuckle, “Your name?”

“Uh?”

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”, Jon insisted, amused.

“Oh, right, fuck. Sam. - he let out an awkward chuckle – I suck at conversations, don’t I?”

“Do I have to remind you which convo I just emerged from?”

“Fair enough. - Sam laughed, almost relieved, then stood up as the train approached Whitechapel – What do you do in this part of town instead?”

“I’m… - he swallowed, suddenly shy – I started working at the old vinyl store, for now.”

Jon felt so pathetic his cheeks flushed and the red stained his ears.

Sam could just think how good it was he had kept his dreams still. He envied that.

He lost his along the road.

“Oh. - Sam blinked, then looked at him again, yeah, well, he was all dressed in black, dead-like pale skin, eyeliner, it made sense now – Wait… old Jon’s? You’ll be Jon and Jon?”

“Apparently. - he let out an embarrassed chuckle and moved a curl of black hair behind an ear – He’s my godfather actually. Like… I’m named after him and he’s like my father’s best friend since always.”

Sam smiled, “That’s nice.”

“Isn’t it a bit sad, though? - Jon chuckled and had a metallic shade to his voice – Working for your own family?”

Sam felt the corners of his mouth tilt.

The taste of blue soured up on his tongue.

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of having a good relationship with your family.”

God knew he would have liked that.

Oh, he tried to have that. He tried to laugh, to force his mouth not to crawl, to find the jokes funny, to find the voices soft, he dug and scraped through the comments hoping to find care or love or worry and he passed through his fingers the scorching sandpaper of their vitriol and he held it to his chest, pretending it was just a sign of their affection. It didn’t work out well.

He hated the dirt until the stones broke his teeth.

Jon sucked his lips and smiled at him, “Thanks… he is like… trying to… - he spaced out, Sam blinked at him, then at the fingers snapping in the search of a cigarette that was not there, Jon’s lips twitched and words came out dry – He wants to help me.”

They exited from the doors and didn’t watch the underground train go beyond them, rushing with a screamed whiplash. Sam turned to it, observed it leaving, and felt his lungs heavy with the distance it took. Teeth gnarled through his stomach.

Jon looked in the distance dramatically, almost as if he had a mission.

He was… well, himself.

Should they have parted?

“So, umh. - Jon let out a thin smile – Wanna take the road together? Unless you’re tired of me already.”

Sam smiled, “Of course not. - a snort – Plus, I do need to know what your friend’s problem was with that boy.”

They start walking up the stairs and out in the light again. Sam noticed that Jon limped slightly, but didn’t point it out, and he noticed that Jon kept looking at his face and abdomen. He clenched his teeth, wondering if he found him ugly or fat or both.

In his experience, people put the two together.

“Eh, Theon is… a toxic masculinity bundle? - Jon explained, still sort of pouting – You know, he thinks he’s straight, he fucks around a lot, he is one of those who tell you he doesn’t need porn because he can just walk out and … you got the type.”

“Whoa. - Sam frowned – Sounds like an ass.”

Jon sucked his lips, a pang of guilt.

“I mean, he’s also other things: he’s real fun, but I can’t tell him that, he’d get even more cocky, and he is seriously in love with my cousin since years. He cares for him and all.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that what counts?”

“I suppose, I guess I’m just a bit… jealous, you know?”

“Oh. - surprise, hurt, throat-ache – Oh.”

“No no! - Jon almost tripped to grab Sam’s arm and laugh, he looked almost clumsy, as if he dropped the gloomy, mysterious mask, revealing the tenderest of boys under, and Sam liked it, oh, he did – Not like that, just cause we were all friends and my cousin always preferred him, of course, because you know, crush, but… it remained and sedimented there, you know?”

Sam’s eyes lowered and he glanced at the arm which Jon was holding.

It burnt so sweet.

“Yes… kind of. - he admitted – I do know envy.”

Jon smiled, weakly. His eyes shone.

“Actually. - Jon gulped – I know this is going to sound awfully straight-forward, but...”

But the ringtone.

Dammit.

Sam escaped the grasp, the ghost of the smouldering contact still pinching on the skin.

Jon grabbed the phone, sighed, and replied, “Yes, Robb?”

His eyes widened.

“You did _what_? - a pause – How many shots, excuse me?”

Sam stared, contemplating for a second to dig himself a hole in the ground to avoid getting deaf from his heart drumming.

“And what did he reply? - Jon’s jaw dropped – What do you mean you’re sending me the screenshot, can’t you just… Robb? Robb?”

Jon moved the phone from his ear and sighed, then scrolled with his thumb, waiting for it.

Sam hesitated, “Emh?”

“He apparently chugged down some gin and wrote him half-drunk.”

“…he is a bit reckless, isn’t he?”

“Oh, he has the impulse control of a three year old.”

Then Jon’s eyes got wide and he started to snicker and laugh, his shoulders shivering and his head shaking. He had a fist next to his lips, as to keep himself, to make less noise, but he barely could, amusement riding his nerves all up.

Sam felt a slap on his ribs. How pretty could he even be, that was highly unfair.

“Look. - Jon moved the phone for Sam to see – And tell me if he isn’t an idiot.”

On the screen there were two bubbles: one from Robb and one from Theo? Theon? Something like that.

“Hey I don’t wanna ruin our friendship… - Sam read out loud, his voice soft – But like I really wanna tap that ass. - he raised his eyes, meeting Jon who was still snickering, hand over his mouth, Sam shook his head and decided to read the other bubble – Ruin it.”

He smiled.

“Well. - Sam noted – They seem like a good match.”

“Somehow. - Jon had to admit, taking the hand off his mouth and licking his lips, his eyes moved and brushed over Sam – I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t even...”

“It’s nice. - Sam said, a bit too quickly – That you care for your family so.”

“Look, I… - Jon started – I’m coming from a shit place. - he said, in a fit of honesty – I come from this serious relationship and it ended, like, bad, bad, and I… I’m not exactly the healthiest motherfucker ever _right now_. - he should pause to breathe but barely does – So, if I sound like the creepy guy that meets you on the underground and decides things, god, shut me down, okay? Please, do. - Sam blinked, speechless – But, you’re… like really cute.”

Sam blinked.

“Me?”

“And in the spirit of like you not having freaked out about my gay cousin, I thought… perhaps. - he paused, frowned – Yes, you, who else?”

Sam stiffened, shaking his head slightly, “You’re not… mocking me, right?”

Jon let out a croaked sound, “No?”

He seemed so incredulous.

“I’m sorry it’s just… - Sam shook his head – People don’t usually...”

“You’re kind, funny, you seem interesting. - Jon shrugged, with a thin smile – Just a drink after work, nothing more.”

Sam sucked his lips.

“We close at 5.”

“Good. - Jon’s eyes were shining black lakes – You can pass by the vinyl store, and we can… you know… grab something...”

Sam nodded weakly, “...just… to be, like, sure… you don’t mean this as like… friends?”

“Please, I’ve had enough technical bromances for a lifetime from those two. - he shook the phone – I just want to get to know a bit the ex nurse now librarian who has a sad smile and a little cat tattoo on his wrist.

He noticed that?

“Ah. - Sam flinched, a shivering smile and a low chuckle – Spoons. I, uh, I know it’s silly, it’s...”

“It’s cute. - Jon said, then raised his own shirt sleeve, showing a tattoo too.

The skin looked even whiter now that he rolled up the black and the black tattoo there looked like a little pool of darkness.

It was a white wolf. Or dog.

“Ghost.”, he said.

Sam sucked his lips, shyly, then raised his eyes and let out the smallest, “You have your… pet tattooed too… - he paused – Fuck, you’re really cute.”

Jon’s hair was so ruffled, curls everywhere, that for a moment, Sam didn’t see how red his ears were again.

He found his heart plunged and dived away.

The sea in his chest stormed up.

“Fine, I accept the drink, but at one condition.”, he said, with now a mischievous, little smile.

Jon seemed caught back, almost scared.

God, he was cute.

“Which would be?”

“You will have to tell me about something you are writing. - he smiled – Clear?”

Jon showed his shy smile again. He groaned, faking a certain restrain.

He was relaxing.

He was playful, Sam complimented himself.

“Fair, but I warn you: it’s not as funny as my cousin’s love life.”

Sam laughed. Right.

He probably should be really grateful to that Robb guy.


End file.
